Page 39 of His Forgotten Highland Bride

“When you practically pounded down the Campbells’ door to catch me in some lewd act.” The smile hinted again but didn’t give in completely.

“I’m glad you found it amusing.”

“I’m glad you have so much extra time to spy on me while also making a mess of your leg.”

“It feels fine now.” His pride spoke before his brain had any say.

“Well, of course it does. I just tended it.” She shook her head, irritated.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” he said. “And thank you for taking care of the Campbell family. You’re a kindhearted woman.”

“But you still don’t trust me.”

She frowned when he didn’t answer right away. He hated to see her disappointed, but he didn’t want to tell her he trusted her until he could be certain it was true.

He decided the best way to get honesty might be to give it.

“My mother was unfaithful to my father and my stepfather. I saw how easy it was for her to leave her lover and become a besotted wife. The way she turned them into besotted fools to get what she wanted. And when she was caught, the way she twisted things so she wasn’t at fault. I know not all women are that way. I don’t know how to know for certain.”

“I don’t know if it is something you can ever know for certain. Trusting someone is a matter of faith.”

He nodded but said nothing in response. He didn’t know what to say. And maybe it wasn’t a matter of not trusting her but of not trusting himself to see if it was safe.

She busied herself with changing out the hot cloth again.

“’Tis helping greatly,” he said, turning the conversation back to easier things, like his mangled leg.

“We’ll continue treating it with heat tonight. In the mornings, before you go for a long stroll, give it another good rub and stretch the muscles a bit first to tease them into working better.”

“Very well.” Did that mean she wasn’t planning to tend to him in the morning, to rub his leg for him? Worried she was about to leave, he groped for something to keep her in place. “How did you learn so much about healing, or did you already know such things before we met?”

She sat next to his bed again. “I enjoyed healing in Innes, though Hannah constantly fretted over it. But here, Geordie didn’t seem to mind, so Moira taught me, and I would help by sitting with someone when they were ill. It meant fewer hours for each of us.”

“So you’ve tended many of the villagers?”

“Aye. I’ve been there at the joy of a new birth, as well as the sadness of a passing. When I would return in tears, Geordie would tell me it was the circle of life. You hear of such things, but until you see it—a birth and a death within hours of one another—you don’t truly understand it.”

He nodded. “I was surrounded by only death. Not many births going on near a battlefield.”

“Will you tell me about it?”

“You wish to hear of the hell of war?” He couldn’t imagine why she would want such darkness in her life. Unless she thought to draw some of it upon herself to ease his burden as she’d done with Moira.

“Maybe not every detail,” she admitted. “But I’d like to know what it was like, what you lived through. And I’d like to know how you were injured.”

He hadn’t given her the details when she’d asked before. He hadn’t wanted to delve into such gruesome discussion for fear she might swoon. But his wife was strong and wanted to know him. He understood her curiosity better now.

He looked at her hand resting on his skin and nodded. He wasn’t sure why it felt comfortable to tell her. Maybe it was simply because she asked when no one else ever had. Shane knew the same hell as he, so they never spoke of battle. Mostly, their conversations focused on what activities took place at home. They both received letters from his stepsister, Tory, and occasionally from Deirdre.

The four letters Ronan had received from Brenna remained unopened in his pack. He couldn’t bear the weight of guilt her words would have brought, so he’d kept them unread. But he could lean on her now to know his truth. He didn’t think she would offer pity or false words of understanding. She would listen and let him purge himself of the memories tinged in blood. She’d told him he needed to have faith in her.

He opened his mouth and allowed the words to come.